The Polar Bear
by Philthefeet
Summary: A continuation of the Polar Bear scene from 'The Reckoning', with a happily-ever-after ending. Although I'd only intended this to be one chapter, I've added some more. Hope you all like it. And apparently, the court-case never happened in my version.
1. Chapter 1

'Peter, what's wrong?'

The mood in the room had changed completely. A moment ago they'd been teasing and joking together, Peter doing his impressions, but now his back was turned, his shoulders hunched, and she could feel waves of anguish radiating from his body. He half-turned and leaned back against the work surface, not looking at her, but staring into the kitchen without really seeing.

Assumpta's eyes searched his face, as he mumbled 'It's very hard for me. I don't know where to start.' He took a deep breath, then finally meeting her eyes, asked 'Have you heard the polar bear joke?'

She blew out a small breath of exasperation and gave a shrug as her eyes followed him across the room, trying to find something in his face that would let her know what was happening, what he was feeling, how she could help him.

'Okay. There's a baby polar bear, and he's in the sea, and he climbs out, runs across the ice up to his mum, and he says "Mum, are you sure I'm a polar bear?" She says "Don't be silly, course you are. You've got white fur, you eat fish – you're a polar bear. Don't be daft. Get back in the sea." So he does, but he's not content.'

Assumpta watched him carefully as he told his joke, never taking her eyes from his face. He only glanced up once or twice, and never met her gaze for more than a second.

'So he jumps out and this time he runs up to his dad and he says "Dad, am I really a polar bear?" He says "What you talking about? Of course you're a polar bear. You've got white fur, you eat fish, you're a polar bear." He says "Why do you ask?" And the baby bear says "Because I'm freezing."'

He looked carefully at her now, willing her to understand. She knew exactly how he was feeling, and her heart ached for him. It was the way she had felt so often, like she didn't belong, she was living the wrong life, different from everyone around her, with no-one to understand and no-one to share things with.

Peter was fighting to stop his emotions from getting the better of him. Now that he'd started this, he had to make sure she understood. He stepped closer. Not as close as he wanted to, but as close as felt safe at the moment.

'Why am I always thinking of you?' He bit his tongue to try to hold back the tears. Assumpta's heart was racing and she couldn't quite seem to catch her breath. A hundred thoughts and feelings were battling with each other inside her mind, but the one thing that mattered more than any other was that he was in such pain - this wonderful man, her best friend - and she had to comfort him.

'Peter, come here,' she whispered. As he laid his head on her shoulder, he began to sob, finally unable to stand it any longer. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbed his shoulder, and stroked the silky hair at the back of his neck. His breathing began to steady.

She pulled him in closer, and he turned his head to rest his cheek on her shoulder. She felt his lips gently brush the side of her neck as he inhaled slowly. As he breathed out, his mouth came to rest against her neck again. He could feel how soft her skin was, smell her hair, almost taste her, and her fingers were moving slowly across his back.

She had tried to assume that it was merely an accident the first time he brushed against her neck and then pulled away. But he leaned in again and stayed there, not really kissing her, but with his mouth touching her skin ever so lightly, moving so slowly. She stayed completely still, hardly daring to breathe, scared by the thought that this might really be happening; scared by the thought that it might not.

He kissed her properly this time; gently, tenderly, but definitely deliberate, his lips pulling softly on her skin. She felt her breath catch in her throat; her eyes fluttered closed as she gave in to all the feelings she'd been trying so hard to suppress, for so long. As his lips came into contact with her skin for a fourth time, she knew. He kissed her right below her jaw-bone, his mouth wide open, full of passion and longing. He kissed her again, moving to the front of her throat.

She knew that if she was going to stop this, it had to be now, before she lost control completely, before she simply gave in to what they both wanted. She slid her hands to his shoulders and gently pulled away from him. She forced herself to draw a deep breath, enough to be able to actually speak, at least.

She didn't get the chance. As she opened her mouth, he leaned forwards and kissed her on the lips, keeping up the pressure until she began to respond. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her towards him, sliding her off the work surface on which she'd been sitting.

She slowly guided him backwards, kissing him all the way, towards a kitchen chair in the middle of the room. She pushed him down onto the chair by his shoulders, then sat herself on his knee, her legs straddling his. They kissed fiercely, her hands pulling gently at his hair, his hands sliding up under her t-shirt, stroking the delicate skin on her back. They broke apart, both completely breathless, and unable to stop staring into the other's eyes, totally mesmerised. She slid her hands down the sides of his neck to the collar of his shirt. The top two buttons were already unfastened. Her eyes flicked down to his shirt, then back up to meet his eyes in a question. Fortunately, a large part of their relationship so far had been conducted through meaningful looks across Fitzgerald's bar, and Peter knew exactly what she was asking. He met her eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod. She moved to unfasten the next button on his shirt.

'Assumpta, you're shaking,' he murmured, as she struggled to force the button through the button-hole with her unsteady hands.

'I know,' she replied, as she finally succeeded. She ran her hands over the bare skin of his chest, and bent down to kiss the hollow at the base of his throat. He let out a soft groan, and she felt the vibrations pass through his skin and into her lips.

A loud wail broke the tension in the room. They both looked towards the baby monitor on the window sill.

'Kieran,' Peter stated with regret.

'You know, someone really needs to teach that boy about timing,' Assumpta responded, still dizzy and breathless.

'I'll go see to him.'

'No, let me.

Assumpta climbed off Peter's knee, and dashed out of the kitchen, up the stairs. Peter heard the baby monitor click off as she reached Kieran's room. The poor little chap was obviously going to get that lesson about timing then! He smiled to himself, and started pottering around the kitchen, finishing the preparations he'd been in the middle of earlier on, before Assumpta had arrived. He could hear her pacing across the room upstairs, obviously trying to calm Kieran down, and get him back to sleep. He couldn't stop grinning.

The baby monitor clicked back on, and Assumpta's footsteps moved to the staircase. Peter busied himself with the cooking, deliberately keeping his back to the kitchen door as she came in.

'Are you hungry? I can have the starters ready in about ten minutes, if you want?'

She shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

'Peter, I'm not sure this is a good idea.' He quickly spun round to face her, looking puzzled.

'We got a bit carried away before; you said things you didn't mean. I should go,' she continued.

'What things?' he asked angrily.

'What do you mean?'

'Which bit of all of that do you think I didn't mean?'

'Peter, you're a priest! You can't mean any of it.'

A look of relief flashed across Peter's face as he realised why Assumpta was so worried. 'Yeah, you're right. I am a priest. But only for another…' he looked at his watch '… fourteen hours.'

'What?' She couldn't quite believe what she'd just heard.

Peter was calm and spoke patiently now. He knew she needed to hear the full story. 'Assumpta, I'm not just rushing into this. I told Father Mac months ago that I wanted to leave. I told him why. He suggested I go on retreat, try and see if I could find enough reason for me to stay. I went, then my mother became ill. I came back and you were married! I thought that was a sign, a sign that I should stay a priest. But it wasn't. It just made it clearer that you weren't the reason I wanted to leave.' She gave him a 'look'. He smiled back sheepishly. 'Okay, you weren't the _only_ reason I wanted to leave. I realised I couldn't carry on anyway, whatever you might do. So I went to Father Mac again this morning, and he said to give it twenty-four hours. Think, pray, do whatever I had to, to make sure this was the right decision.'

She grinned at him. 'I think maybe you did what you had to, about half an hour ago?' He shook his head. 'No. I would never have done anything until I was sure. I wasn't about to start something with you if I couldn't finish it. And I want you to understand that I made this decision because of how I feel about the church, and my place in it. You are not responsible for me leaving. You're free to make up your own mind about what happens next.' He blushed slightly as he continued. 'I hope I've made it clear what I'd like to happen though.'

'Erm, yeah, I'd say that was fairly obvious.' She smiled shyly, walked across the room, and leant up against him. The side of her face pressed against his chest, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. He stroked her hair with one hand and held her close with the other. They stood like that for a few minutes, in quiet contentment, before Peter broke the silence.

'I hadn't planned on telling you like this, you know?'

'No? What were you going to do? Climb up on the bar at Fitzgerald's and declare your love for me in front of all the regulars?' She grinned.

'Erm, no. Not quite. I was going to go tell Father Mac tomorrow, and then wait till you closed after lunch. I was going to come in looking all miserable and forlorn, and say that I needed to talk to a friend, and would you come for a walk with me? I was going to take you up into the hills, and then just hold your hand, and wait for you to ask me what the hell I was doing, which I know you would have done. And then I was going to tell you exactly how wonderful and beautiful and amazing you are.'

'Well, I don't think I have any plans tomorrow afternoon, so, you know, if you feel like dropping in, and pouring your heart out to a sympathetic friend, I'm sure I could find time to go for a walk.'

'Hmm. I'll bear that in mind.' He stepped away from her, and they grinned at each other again.

'So, that's tomorrow sorted out. What about tonight?'

A look of panic flitted across his face.

'Ah, Peter, would you relax? I don't mean anything like that. This is a big step for both of us. Let's just take it slowly at first, yeah?'

He relaxed.

'Ok. How about I cook you dinner?'

'I thought it was for the food fair?'

'It's a practice run really. There's plenty here to feed us both now, and to cook a plate for tomorrow night.'

'All right. What can I do to help? – but _not_ the washing up. I have enough of that at the pub.'

They worked together organising the meal. Assumpta searched through the cupboards and found cutlery and candles, while Peter put the finishing touches to the food. They sat opposite each other, their feet entwined under the table, discussing plans for the future; Assumpta's divorce, Peter's job prospects, whether to tell everyone about them, or just let them find out in their own time.

'Peter, can I ask you something?'

'Of course.'

'How did you know that this was what you wanted?'

He was thoughtful for a moment. 'I don't know. I mean … I spent so long trying to convince myself that this _wasn't_ what I wanted. I think within about three weeks of arriving here, part of me had realised that I looked forward to seeing you more than anything else. And even though it was much more innocent then, I still felt that I was heading down a slippery slope. So I prayed and asked God to show me that this was where I was meant to be. Time after time, I saw that I was doing good here, helping people. So I accepted that I was meant to be here. So then I prayed and asked God to show me what He wanted me to do, how I could be most useful.' He paused.

'I heard this story a long time ago, and it kept coming back to me.' Assumpta watched him quietly while he told the tale.

"There was a man who loved God. He tried to live his life in a good way, to help people, to serve God and his community. He loved his wife and his children; he took good care of his home and all those around him. One day, he heard on the news that a terrible storm was coming, and that the rivers were going to flood. His home might be washed away. But he said 'I trust in God. He'll keep me safe, because I'm faithful to Him.' So he and his family stayed where they were. But then the rain started, and the winds blew down trees. He was worried about his children, so he sent them to stay with their grandparents in a different part of the country. That night, the river burst its banks, and the streets flooded. A neighbour floated by in a boat and offered to take him and his wife to safety. He told his wife to go, and help some of the other neighbours, but he told the friend with the boat 'I trust in God. He'll keep me safe.' The rain continued to fall, and the water rose around the house. He had to move into the upstairs rooms to get out of the water. A rescue boat came around, but he sent it on to help other people, saying 'I have faith on God. He won't fail me.' Eventually, he had to crawl out onto the roof, while the water swirled around him. A rescue helicopter hovered over head, with people shouting down, trying to convince him to climb up. But he told them 'Go help someone else. I trust in God, and He will keep me safe because I have faith in Him.' Finally, the surging tides washed him off the roof and he drowned."

Assumpta raised her eyebrows, but let him continue.

"The man found himself in Heaven. He knew he should be happy, but he couldn't help feeling cheated. He went to ask God what had happened. 'Ah!' said God. 'I expected to see you. You're miserable. What's wrong?'

The man explained. 'I tried to live a good life. I was always faithful to you. I prayed for you to save me, and you didn't.'

And God replied 'My child, I gave you two days' warning, sent two boats and a helicopter. What more did you want me to do?'"

Peter smiled slightly sadly.

'So the moral of the story is…?' asked Assumpta.

'The moral of the story is that no matter what I prayed for, how I worded it, it always came back to the same thing. I asked where God wanted me to go, what I should do, how could I best serve God, what was the right thing. Whatever I did, it always seemed to lead back to you. So I tried to phrase it a different way, because I didn't think that that could be right. It wasn't what I expected to hear.'

'God works in mysterious ways,' she mumbled.

'Yeah. If I hadn't been a priest, I would probably never have met you.'

'If you hadn't been a priest, I probably wouldn't have given you half a chance, and frightened you off before I got to know you.'

'Like you did with Enda Sullivan?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, good job I was a priest then, isn't it?'

'Come on, we should clean up. Niamh and Ambrose'll wonder what happened to their kitchen if they come back to find this.'

She got up and started moving dirty dishes to the sink. He stood up to join her. Another cry echoed from the baby monitor.

'Ah now, you see, he obviously paid close attention when I gave him that little talk about timing earlier. I'll let you get on with the washing up, and go and sort him out.' She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried upstairs. Peter dried his hands and surveyed the kitchen. It would have to wait until later.

He quietly slipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs into the living room. He looked around and in a corner found Ambrose's impressive record collection. He searched through the titles, discarding most of the immediately - this wasn't really the occasion for heavy metal. He finally found an old LP of soft, gentle music and put it on the record player in the corner. He closed all the curtains, and turned on a small lamp in the far corner of the room. He heard Assumpta's footsteps once more descend the staircase, and pause outside the closed door. She gently pushed the door open, looking slightly puzzled.

'I thought you were washing up?'

'Sorry, but I couldn't resist spoiling you for just a little bit longer. Miss Fitzgerald, may I have the pleasure of this dance?' He held out his hand to her.

She blushed, but stepped forward to take his hand. 'Peter, of course you can. This is lovely.'

He entwined their fingers, and slid his other arm around her waist. She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder, and they moved slowly together, gazing into each others' eyes.

'You know you don't have to keep on spoiling me, don't you? I mean, you're setting yourself quite a standard tonight - it might be hard to keep it up.' She smiled lazily up at him.

'Assumpta, every waking minute, of every day, for the last three years, I have longed to be able to take you in my arms, and hold you - show you how much I love you. Every sleeping moment has been filled with dreams of you, walking hand in hand through the hills, dancing together, wrapped up warm in front of a blazing fire. I fully intend to live out every single one of my fantasies, and when I find out what they are, every single one of yours.'

She stopped moving and held him still. 'It won't always be like this though, Peter. I mean, what's going to happen to us?'

He sat down on the sofa, and pulled her down to sit next to him. She leaned back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, taking hold of her hands in front of her.

'Well, tomorrow I'll speak to Father Mac. I'll ask to be released from my vows.'

'How long will that take?' She looked worried.

'It could be years. It doesn't matter though. I know that this is what I should be doing. I have to ask to be released from my vows, but as far as I'm concerned, after tomorrow, I'm not a priest. I'm sure that my life is supposed to be with you.'

She hesitated. 'But what about… marriage and… you know?'

'Well, I'm not married now. Soon, you won't be either. Your divorce from Leo is already under way isn't it?' She nodded. 'So we can get married whenever you want really.'

'But not in the church?'

'You _want_ to get married in church?'

'I don't mind. But I thought that you would.'

'Assumpta, I just want to be with you. We can have a civil wedding and be legally married even if the church doesn't agree. I've thought a lot about this, and I know you'll need some time to think about it too, but I'm sure that this is the right thing. I don't feel guilty. I don't feel like I'll be breaking my vows.' He lifted his legs up onto the sofa, and laid back; Assumpta did likewise.

'Okay, so we'll get married. What else is going to happen?' she asked dreamily.

'Well, we'll live at Fitzgerald's.' He spoke softly, as if telling a fairy story to a child. 'I'll get a job that I can do during the day, then at evenings and weekends I can help you out behind the bar.'

'What about children?' she murmured.

'Erm, four I think. Yeah, a girl, then twin boys, then another girl. Niamh and Ambrose and Brendan and Siobhan will be godparents. The kids'll all go to the National School, and Brendan will teach them. They'll be his favourite pupils, because you were always his favourite.'

'What will we call them?'

'I don't know. You'll have to tell me some interesting Irish names.'

'Wouldn't you want them to have English names?'

'No, they'll be Irish, they should have Irish names. Unique and individual names like yours.'

'Thank you Peter.' There were tears in Assumpta's eyes, and Peter could hear them in her voice as she spoke.

'What for?'

'I've never dared to dream about the future before. All I could see was me, behind the bar at Fitzgerald's, getting older and lonelier.'

'Well, I can't stop either of us getting older, but I can promise you two things.'

'What?'

'Firstly, we may get older, but you will always be the most beautiful and wonderful thing in the whole world, as far as I'm concerned. And secondly, neither of us need ever be lonely again.'

They held each other tighter. 'Tell me more about our children. What will they be like?' she whispered.

Peter talked on gently, winding tales about their future life together. They were warm and comfortable; arms around each other, fingers laced together, legs in a tangle. The gaps between his stories and her questions got longer, their breathing became gentler, and they gradually drifted off into a contended sleep.

* * *

Outside, two car doors closed gently, and a key scraped in the lock. Ambrose entered with a red wine stain down the front of his shirt, followed by Niamh, whispering 'Would you go take that thing off and check on Kieran for me? I'll go and say goodnight to Peter.'

Ambrose headed upstairs, while Niamh tiptoed down to the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise in case she woke Kieran. She walked in to find no Peter, but two plates, two wine glasses, candles burnt right down and a sink full of dirty pots. Confused, she turned the light out, and headed back upstairs. Noticing the faint glow under the living room door, she pushed it open and stood in the doorway with a look of horror on her face. There on the sofa was Peter, laid on his back, half of his shirt buttons unfastened. Laid half on top of him was Assumpta, her head on his shoulder, her arm stretching across his bare chest, her hand at the other side of his neck, fingers stroking his cheek in her sleep. Their legs were still tangled together, Peter's arm was wrapped around her waist and his hand was resting on her hip. They both had a look on their faces – Niamh couldn't quite place it – something like pure bliss.

She quickly pulled the door closed again, as Ambrose came down the stairs in his pyjamas.

'Has Peter gone? Are you coming up to bed love?'

'Erm, yeah,' she replied distractedly.

* * *

The sun shone hazily through the curtains, and fell across the sleeping pair. In the early morning quiet, a car drove past the window, causing Assumpta to stir slightly. She wasn't in the most comfortable position, and she was a little cold. She reached out to pull the covers closer around her, and quickly realised that she wasn't at home in her lonely little bed. The events of the night before came back to her quickly, and she felt little butterflies of excitement flitting around her stomach at the thought that she'd just spent the night curled up here with Peter.

She lifted her arm to look at her watch. Just before 7.00am. She lay still, but began tracing patterns with her fingers down Peter's neck, across his shoulder and down under his open shirt across his chest. She pushed herself up slightly with her other arm, and placed a light kiss on his cheek, then another, and then one on his lips.

'Can I wake up like this every morning, please?' he mumbled, before gently kissing her back.

'What? Half dressed on Niamh's sofa? You'd better not!'

'That's not exactly what I had in mind. I was thinking more of the bit where I wake up in the arms of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, after a night of unbroken, contented sleep.'

'Well, last night you were planning on us having four children, so I can't see the night of unbroken sleep happening all that often either,' she teased. Then, becoming serious she added 'but I do like the sound of waking up next to you every morning.' She snuggled back down onto his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

'No, come on,' she said firmly. 'We can't do this now. Niamh and Kieran could be down at any moment. You need to go talk to Father Mac and sort things out. And I have a pub to run.' She sat up and started to straighten her clothes out.

'Okay, okay. Oh God! What about Niamh?! She must have come in and seen us last night! She wouldn't just have arrived home and gone to bed. She would've tried to find me to say goodnight. We have to talk to her!' He jumped up and was trying to dash to the door when she caught his hand and stopped him.

'Peter, have some sense! You're half-dressed, and she's asleep. You need to go and talk to Father Mac. I'll deal with Niamh,' she added with grim determination.

'Alright.' He fastened his shirt and searched around for the shoes he'd taken off the night before. 'I'd better go.' He pulled her into an embrace. 'I'll see you after lunch? About two o'clock?'

'Yeah. I'll be counting the minutes. Good luck.' She kissed him on the cheek.

'You too,' he replied, casting his eyes upstairs to where Niamh would be sleeping. He grinned and kissed her slowly and passionately as he backed out of the living room.

Assumpta waited until she heard the outside door softly close, then finished straightening her rumpled clothes. She ran her fingers through her hair, remembering the feel of Peter's hands there the night before. She padded softly down to the kitchen in her bare feet to make herself a coffee before having to deal with Niamh. She walked in to find her already sitting at the kitchen table.

'Er, morning Niamh,' she started hesitantly.

'Morning. Sleep well?' she asked angrily.

'Erm, yeah, fine thanks. You?

'No, I've been up most of the night actually. Assumpta, what the hell do you think you're doing seducing the priest in my house!' she hissed.

'I wasn't… I haven't…' she stammered. 'It's not like that!' She felt exhausted, and unprepared for this argument.

'Oh really? So I come home to find the remains of a romantic candlelit dinner for two all over my kitchen, and the two of you wrapped up together on my sofa, half dressed, but you didn't seduce him.'

'We weren't "wrapped up together". We just fell asleep.' She knew she probably looked very guilty. She could tell she wasn't fooling Niamh.

'He had his arms all over you, you were lying on top of him, and you were …' she whispered the next word '… _stroking _his face in your sleep. I saw you Assumpta. Don't tell me it was all completely innocent.'

'Okay, okay. Well, I mean, it _was_ innocent in that sense; we didn't _do_ anything. And actually, I think technically he seduced me, rather than the other way around.' She couldn't help a smug grin escaping her lips at the memory.

'_What!?_' Niamh almost yelped. 'Assumpta, he's a priest. He wouldn't!'

'Well, he did. And he's not going to be a priest after today. He's gone over to Cilldargan now to talk to Father Mac. He'd already asked to leave; he just had to go today to make sure he was certain. And before you ask,' she jumped in, seeing that Niamh was about to interrupt again, 'I didn't know anything about it until after he kissed me.' She knew that would get Niamh's attention.

'He _what?_' she whispered, now hanging on Assumpta's every word. 'Tell me every single thing that happened!' she demanded.

'Well, I came around to babysit Kieran, but you'd already gone, and Peter was here. We talked for a bit, and he got upset about how lonely he was. He was obviously struggling with a lot of things. We ended up hugging, and then he kissed my neck, and we got a little bit carried away.' She looked sheepish. 'And then he cooked for me, and we talked about what we were going to do. I went up to see to Kieran, and when I came down, there was music playing, and we danced. Then we sat on the sofa and talked some more. He told me these stories about our future and how wonderful it's going to be.' She was staring dreamily into the distance now.

'Like what?' asked Niamh softly. She was obviously starting to adjust to the idea.

'You know, marriage, children, grandchildren. About how we'd retire to a little cottage up in the hills, and go for walks, and sit by the fire. How we'd dance together every evening, just the two of us, and wake up in each others' arms every morning.' She was smiling through tears in her eyes.

Niamh got up and walked around the table and gave her friend a hug. The love in Assumpta's eyes was so obvious, and it was something Niamh hadn't seen for such a long time. 'I'd hold him to all of that if I were you,' she said.

'Oh, don't worry Niamh. I will.'


	2. Chapter 2

Assumpta looked again at the clock next to the bar - ten more minutes. She grabbed a couple of glasses from a table and took them through to the kitchen, depositing them in the sink full of nearly-cold water. She'd actually managed to keep on top of the tidying and washing this morning. It must have been all the nervous energy she had bounding though her veins.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "I'll be closing in five minutes. We re-open again at five for the food faire."

As expected, the loudest complaints came from the far end of the bar.

"Well, haven't you three all got potentially prize-winning dishes to prepare anyway?"

Brendan, Siobhan and Padraig all shifted a little on their stools. Brendan coughed surreptitiously.

"Ah, sure. We'd better get off and er, prepare our dishes, hadn't we?" He raised his eyebrows to Padraig, who hurriedly drained his pint and got up.

"Yep. See you later, Assumpta."

They followed the trail of customers out of the door, as Peter stood aside to let them pass before he went in.

"I wouldn't bother if I was you, Father," said Siobhan. "She's shutting up shop until the food faire."

Peter smiled warmly. "Actually, it was a chat I was after, not a pint, so I'll try my luck. Thanks though."

He slipped though the doorway and let the door close behind him. He heard an armful of glasses clunk into the sink before Assumpta reappeared through the kitchen door.

"Hi." He smiled.

"Hi yourself." She beamed back at him.

"So, how was your morning?" They moved to stand on either side of the bar. Assumpta fiddled with a beer mat.

"Oh, you know. It started off very nicely. Since then it's been…" She let out a breath. "… long. Very long. How about you? How were things with Father Mac?"

He shrugged. "Well, it went okay. He knew it was coming, so it wasn't really awkward. There were just lots of forms to fill in and lots of protocol to go through that we both knew wasn't going to make any difference."

"But it's all done now?"

"Yep. You are looking at a free man." She smiled, and reached across the bar to gently rest her hand on top of his. "He asked if I would go to mass tomorrow and explain to everyone what was happening, which I'm glad about. They deserve to know why I'm leaving."

He laughed at the look of horror on her face. "Don't worry. I won't be mentioning your name."

"You'd better not be! You said last night it had nothing to do with me."

"No, but people are going to jump to that conclusion anyway, you know."

"Well, they wouldn't be far off the mark, now would they?" she flirted.

"I suppose not. So are you ready then?"

"I don't know what you mean?" She feigned innocence.

"We were going to go for a walk." He was a little bemused.

"Actually, I seem to remember you saying that you were going to trick me into feeling sorry for you, and going for a walk with you, and then very romantically declare your undying love for me. That was more like it, wasn't it?"

"Ah. Okay." He put on his best 'miserable' face, and sighed heavily, but with a twinkle in his eye. He did his best to convey sincerity, but he was struggling to keep the smile off his face. "Assumpta, I don't suppose you could spare me an hour or so? I really need to talk to a friend." He looked pleadingly at her.

"That was pathetic!" she laughed. "You really need to work on your acting. Hang on a minute and I'll get my jacket."

She locked the front door of the pub, and he followed her through the kitchen and out the back door. They walked briskly up the main street of Ballykissangel, side by side, but not quite touching. At the outer limit of the houses, they climbed over a stile at the side of the road, and set off along a quiet footpath that wound its way steadily upward into the hills and away from the town. Grass and bracken grew thick and tall on either side of them, with occasional small trees casting a shadow on the path.

After about ten minutes of walking, Peter reached down and entwined his fingers with Assumpta's.

"And what the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked softly, smiling up at him to let him know that she was only echoing his words of the previous night, and wasn't actually cross with him.

He stopped walking, turned her to face him and laced the fingers of his other hand with hers.

Looking down into her eyes, he said, "I am finally, after the three longest years of my life, holding the hand of the most wonderful person I have ever known. The most beautiful, witty, kind-hearted, passionate woman I could ever hope to meet. The one I want to spend the rest of my life with."

She glanced down at her shoes and back up at his face. He made her heart race during normal conversation, let alone declarations like that. She reverted to her usual defence of teasing to ease the intense atmosphere that was threatening to overwhelm her.

"Ah, well, you're not so bad yourself." She grinned mischievously at him. "Although you really are a terrible actor." She let go of one of his hands, and pulled him further along the path.

"I had you fooled for three years though, didn't I?"

"Most of the time, yeah. There were moments, though, when you let the mask slip."

"I know. There were probably more than even you realise."

"Like when?" She swung his hand playfully as they walked along together.

"Oh, I don't know. Niamh and Ambrose's wedding? When you gave me that petition? The play?" He glanced down at her.

"Ah, the play! I think I might have slipped a bit there too. Although you did seem to be quite an accomplished actor then."

"Assumpta, that was the only time from the minute I arrived here that I _stopped_ acting. I mean, I was supposed to _pretend_ that I was a priest who was in love with you? It didn't exactly take a huge leap of the imagination."

"That was when I first knew how much trouble I was in. I wanted to kiss you so badly, but not with everyone else there. I wanted you all to myself, so that I could just carry on and never stop." She blushed furiously at having opened up so much, and wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Well, I wasn't arguing with your suggestion for privacy. I wanted it just as much as you did. Can you imagine what would have happened if we had kissed? If we'd gone on stage together and got to the end of that play?"

"I can."

Peter stopped in his tracks and studied her face closely.

"Peter, you know last night, you mentioned something about making my fantasies come true?" she mumbled. "Well, that play rehearsal has to be one of my particular favourites."

"Oh, really?" he teased.

She hit him across the top of his arm. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not, I'm not! I'm just… imagining it." He looked around, surveying the area. "Okay, come on, over here." He pulled her off the path to a grassy area free from bracken, with a small boulder sticking up from the earth.

"What?!"

"Well, I mean, all we need is somewhere for me to sit."

"What, now?"

"Well, why not? No-one will see us, up here. No time like the present." He sat down on the rock. "It'll give me a chance to improve my terrible acting. Let's take it from 'I did what I had to do.' Okay?"

He turned his back to her as he had done in the rehearsals.

"I can't believe I'm doing this out here, where anyone could wander by."

"Well, it'll just make it more authentic, won't it, people barging in and interrupting us. Now, come on. Get on with it, before I forget all my lines."

He turned away from her again, leaving her fidgeting behind him, trying to decide whether this was just too ridiculous to go through with. She finally took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She mumbled, "I did what I had to do. I'm not proud of it."

He turned his head and shoulders to face her. "It's okay. No-one can blame you for falling in love."

She suddenly realised just how true to their real lives this dialogue was. She looked deeply into Peter's eyes, and tried to express how much she genuinely meant these words.

"I didn't fall in love. Not with him." She had to make sure he knew that she hadn't loved Leo.

He paused, and took in the look of regret written plainly on her face. He nodded. Deciding that sticking exactly to the original script was not what was needed now, he whispered, "I know."

She smiled at him. "We have one night, maybe less. Maybe just an hour."

She walked across to him, bobbed down in front of him, raised her right hand so that her palm rested against the side of his face. Her thumb gently traced the line of his cheekbone. They gazed into each other's eyes.

"If it's a sin," she glanced quickly down at his lips, and back to his eyes, "there'll be no repeating it," she barely whispered.

She moved her other hand towards his face, but hesitated, and withdrew it. Her eyes flickered between his mouth, the rise and fall of his chest, back to his eyes.

"Assumpta," he murmured.

She lifted her hand again, and placed it against the other side of his face. "Shh." Her thumbs gently stroked his cheeks, just brushing the very corner of his lips. "I love you, Peter."

Her eyes fluttered closed, as did his. She slowly moved forwards until their faces were millimetres apart. She breathed in the scent of his skin, his aftershave, his whole being. She could feel his quickened breaths on her lips. She was breathing the air he had breathed only seconds before. She bent her head down so that their foreheads touched, the tips of their noses pressed into the soft skin of the other's cheek, and finally their lips brushed.

"I love you," she murmured again, before bringing her lips to his once more.

He felt his heart soar hearing those words. He'd never dared to dream that she might one day say that to him. Even after last night, when they'd talked about so much, and it was clear that she felt it, he'd thought that it wasn't the sort of thing that would come easily to Assumpta. She kept her feelings so carefully hidden to avoid getting hurt. The fact that she trusted him so much made a lump come to his throat, and he inwardly vowed never to let her down.

He pulled away a little. She looked uncomfortable stooping over him like that. "Come here," he said, placing her so that she sat on his knee like a little girl. He swept her dark curls off her face and gazed into her eyes.

"You are the most precious thing in my whole world." The sunlight gave a hundred different colours to her hair as he moved it gently between his fingers. "I love you more than anyone or anything I have ever known, Assumpta."

"I know."

They kissed again, softly and slowly, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, the sun warming their skin, and the breeze swirling gently around them.

After five solid minutes, Assumpta reluctantly pulled away.

"I hate to put a dampener on things, but I have a food faire to host, and I closed early to get things ready."

Peter sighed happily. "Okay. I suppose I really ought to help you set up, seeing as I was the one who distracted you from your duties."

"Oh, you are quite a distraction. But I can manage on my own."

"I know that. But you know you don't _have_ to manage on your own, don't you? Any time you want me, I'll be there."

"I know. And I appreciate it. But I think we'd better just… play it safe for a little while. Tell people tomorrow that you're leaving the church. After that, it's no-one else's business whether you help me out in the bar or not. But while they still think you're the priest…"

"Okay. Fair enough. Come on then, we'd better get you back."

He took her hand and led her back to the path. They walked steadily along, both enjoying the sunshine and the company of each other. Every so often, Peter glanced down at Assumpta and couldn't help but grin. Eventually, Assumpta caught him.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing." He assumed an innocent expression.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, it's just that you're incredibly beautiful when you're looking relaxed and happy, that's all."

"You mean as opposed to the rest of the time, when I look stressed out and miserable?"

"Assumpta, you're going to have to practice accepting compliments graciously."

"Yeah, well, it's not that easy. I mean, you try spending the first twenty-odd years of your life with no-one paying you any attention, unless they're insulting you or they're drunk and leering at you, and then suddenly being bombarded with genuine compliments. It's difficult to know how to react." She shrugged self-consciously.

"I know. But you're going to have to get used to it. I've spent the last three years trying not to let you know how I feel; I'm going to make sure you know now. I will, however, try not to be too overwhelming, and I promise to try not to embarrass you in public. Okay?"

"Okay."

"It's difficult for me too, you know? I've never done this before. I don't quite know what to expect either. For the last twenty-four hours, there's been this never-ending tangle of questions rushing through my head; is it too soon to do this, should I say that? I can only do what feels right to me, and listen to what you tell me is right for you. I want so much for this all to be perfect, but I'm sure I'm going to get it wrong."

"Well, of course you are. So am I. God knows, neither of us is perfect. We've always said stupid things and managed to upset each other, but we've always sorted it out. You don't have to be perfect all the time. I mean, think about the last three years."

He looked at her questioningly.

"Whenever we'd had some stupid argument, or when you went away to be with your mum, or on retreat, or when I went off to London, it wasn't the bad things that kept coming to mind, it was all the sweet, kind, funny moments we'd shared. The perfect moments. That was what kept me going, even when I thought this could never happen." He nodded in agreement.

They walked on quietly for a few more moments before she continued.

"Peter, there's one more thing I want us to agree on."

"What?"

She took a deep breath and shook her head slightly. "No more fantasies that change the past. I know the play thing was my idea, and it was wonderful," she hurriedly reassured him, "but I don't want to change how we got here. You were right last night: if things hadn't been the way they were, this could never have happened. If we had kissed at the play, there would have been a terrible scandal, and you'd have regretted it." He tried to interrupt her. "No, you would. I know you would, because it would have been wrong then. It would have forced you into a decision before you were ready to make it. It's better this way. And just so you know," she couldn't stop a mischievous grin from creeping onto her face, "there's no way I would ever want to change how our first kiss happened. I would far rather have you ravish my neck like you did last night, than have you recite someone else's lines from a script. It was passionate, and intimate, and unbelievably sexy, and it was spontaneous and from the heart, and I will always remember it as the most perfect night of my life."

Peter gawped at her.

"Now who needs to practise accepting compliments graciously?" she grinned, and strode off down the hillside, pulling Peter along by the hand.

* * *

Niamh stepped out of her front door and pulled it closed to head across the road to the pub. She flicked a quick glance up and down the main street of Ballykissangel, just to make sure there was no traffic coming, and froze in shock.

Moving down the street were Peter and Assumpta, her arms wrapped tightly round his neck, with him carrying her, as though they were a newly-married couple about to cross the threshold for the first time. She stormed up the street until she was close enough to hiss at them.

"What do you think you're doing? I thought no-one was supposed to know about you two? I haven't even told Ambrose, and I hate keeping secrets from him, and then you come waltzing down the middle of the road like that…"

"Niamh, shut up," barked Assumpta.

"Sorry Niamh," added Peter, "but it's not what it looks like. Assumpta slipped on a stone in the path and twisted her ankle. She can't stand, let alone walk. I'm going to take her straight to Doc Ryan."

"Yeah, well, if you could get a move on, I'd be very grateful. I'm in agony here," Assumpta growled.

Now that Niamh looked more closely, she could see that Assumpta's left ankle was hugely swollen, and that there was a mixture of dirt and blood smeared all the way down her other leg.

"I'm so sorry. Can I do anything? I'll come with you."

"No, just take my keys out of my jacket pocket, and get the bar sorted for me? The food faire starts in an hour or so. I was intending being back before now, but this has sort of slowed our progress down."

Peter stood still while Niamh searched Assumpta's pocket for the keys.

"Okay, don't worry about anything. I'll get it all organised and ready for you."

"Er, Niamh?" asked Peter.

"Yeah?"

"Could you just come and get the door to Doc Ryan's office before you go? I don't think I can do that while I'm holding Assumpta."

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Assumpta. I don't think it's broken, but it's just too swollen to be able to tell for sure. It's certainly a bad sprain at best. I'll clean up your other leg for you, but you'll have to come back in a couple of days when the swelling's gone down so I can assess it properly. In the meantime, take these every four hours, with food, for the pain, and rest it completely."

"Ah, great. And just how am I supposed to do that with a pub to run? It's the food faire!"

"I can get you crutches, or even a wheelchair if I need to?"

"No, no. I'll be fine. I'll just have to talk nicely to Niamh."

Doc Ryan opened the consulting room door, and beckoned to Peter.

"She's to rest completely for two days, and take the painkillers every four hours. Can you and Niamh try and make sure she sticks to my orders?"

"Yep, will do."

"I am still here, you know!" she scowled.

"I know. Come on, let's get you home. Now, do you think you can manage to hop across the road, or do I need to pick you up again? Cos if I do, I think I might need to visit the doc for my bad back."

She swiped at him, but missed as he stepped backwards.

"I'll be fine," she muttered through gritted teeth.

He lifted her to her one good foot and put an arm around her waist, while she put her arm around his shoulders.

"See you at the food faire, Michael," Peter shouted over his shoulder, as they left the surgery.

* * *

A couple of hours later, the food faire was in full swing. Assumpta was perched up on a bar stool behind the bar, able to reach the till and a couple of pumps, if she swung around on the stool. Niamh was tending to the rest of the bar, and Peter was ferrying things to and from the kitchen. They had only been able to convince Assumpta to sit still on the condition that she was still able to be in charge and serve some of the customers. Peter had got her settled, then dashed home to collect the food he'd prepared the night before. He'd heated it up in Assumpta's microwave, knowing it would taste far worse than it had done when freshly cooked. But, as it turned out, the quality of his cooking hadn't mattered in the least, only the fact that he was the only contestant who hadn't cheated, and he was now the proud owner of a small silver cup.

As they worked together, Assumpta and Peter took it in turns to flash little smiles and looks at each other across the room, rarely speaking, but in constant communication. Then, for about the fifth time that week, the lights flickered off.

"I'll go," called Padraig.

"No, stay," replied Assumpta.

A chorus of objections from Niamh, Peter, Michael and several others stopped Assumpta as she was about to slide down from her bar stool.

"But, I know what I'm doing with it. I've done it before," she implored them.

"Assumpta, you are not to walk on that foot until I know for sure that it's not broken," commanded Michael. "Padraig can go. I'm sure he knows one end of a fuse box from the other."

Padraig hopped down from his stool and made his way down into the cellar. His head popped up again moments later.

"Niamh, pass me that torch," he said, gesturing to one sitting behind the bar.

He disappeared again for a few moments, then reappeared, shaking his head.

"Assumpta, how old is that thing?"

"As old as the dinosaurs? I don't know. It's certainly never been replaced since I was born."

"Well, it needs replacing now. The whole thing is shot. Every time a fuse has blown, it's done a bit more damage to the rest of it. A proper electrician could maybe patch it up for a little while, but it's not going to last much longer."

"Oh, well that's just great. Sorry everyone, but we're going to have to close up early. And we probably won't be open tomorrow either. I can't see me being able to find an electrician on a Sunday. If you could finish your drinks and then take your prize-winning meals home with you?"

Peter sidled up to Assumpta.

"What are you going to do?"

"About the electrics? Get someone in on Monday I suppose."

"No, I meant tonight. You can't stay here with no electricity." 

"Why not? I'm hardly going to need to use all my kitchen appliances in the middle of the night, am I? And I can't get upstairs, so I might as well just sleep on the couch down here." She shrugged. People had started collecting their food, calling goodbyes, moving out of the dusky pub.

Niamh came over to join them. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I'd offer you a bed over at my place, only I don't have a spare one."

"I'll be fine Niamh."

"Well, can I do anything for you before I go? I've cleared the bar up as best I can, and I'll be over to help with whatever tomorrow."

"Actually, would you go upstairs for me and find me something else to wear? There'll be some jogging bottoms and a t-shirt on the bed I think. And bring me some blankets and pillows down too."

"Sure."

Niamh disappeared upstairs, while Peter helped Assumpta over to the couch. "I'm just going to get on with some washing up for you, while you get changed, okay?"

"Okay. And Peter, will you put a pan of water on the gas stove? I could do with a coffee."

She was beginning to look exhausted now, so Peter left her in peace. Niamh returned in a few minutes, and helped her change into her night clothes, and then helped her hop to the pub toilets to get washed. As Assumpta got settled on the sofa again, Niamh folded her arms and looked at her.

"So?" she questioned.

"So what?" Assumpta returned.

"Will he be staying over tonight?" She nodded towards the kitchen where Peter was still working.

"I don't know, Niamh," she sighed. "We haven't discussed it. I'm exhausted and I'm in pain. If he wants to stay, then I'm not going to argue with him. But believe me, there'll be nothing going on. You can sleep peacefully across the street without wondering what we're getting up to."

"Okay, okay. Try and get some rest, and I'll come round after mass tomorrow." She hugged her friend, and shouted goodbye to Peter through the kitchen door.

Peter emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, bearing a tray of sandwiches, two cups of coffee and a packet of biscuits.

"I raided your cupboards, I hope you don't mind?"

"No, it's fine, but I'm not very hungry."

"Assumpta, you're due some more painkillers, and you can't keep taking them on an empty stomach. Here." He handed her a cup of coffee and a plate of sandwiches.

"Fine. Will you just lock the front door for me?" She handed him her keys, and sighed heavily as he walked away from her. As he returned, he saw her shiver. He picked up a couple of logs and put them on the fire, then found the pile of blankets Niamh had brought. He unfolded one, and gently draped it over her injured leg, making sure he didn't move it unnecessarily, then tucked the rest of the material around her. As he looked up, he noticed tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I was trying not to hurt you."

She wiped the tears away and took a sip of coffee. "It's not that. You didn't hurt me."

"What is it then?"

"It's just… all this. I'm in pain. I'm exhausted, because I'm trying to keep going when my body's telling me I should just rest. I'm so worried about this place…"

"Why?"

"Well, what if I have broken my ankle? I'll have to pay someone to help out here, and I just can't afford that, let alone the amount it'll cost to fix the electrics. I just don't know what I can do."

Peter sat down on the floor, with his back resting against the couch. He picked up his coffee and sipped it, obviously deep in thought, while Assumpta started on her sandwiches.

"Okay. First problem - how to keep this place running until you're back on your feet. You may or may not have noticed that as of tomorrow lunchtime, I will be homeless and jobless, so I'll do you a deal. In exchange for one of your spare rooms, and whatever leftovers I can scrounge from your fridge, I will work for you for nothing until you are back on your feet and able to cope on your own. It won't really cost you anything, because you've usually got at least one room spare; it means I won't have to worry about you falling and injuring yourself again; I'll have somewhere to live and something to do while I sort out what it is that I _do_ want to do next. And you'll be able to boss me around all day, so you'll be happy. How's that?" He smiled, pleased with his master plan.

"It sounds like it might work," she conceded wearily, "but it doesn't solve the main problem, which is that, if I can't afford to fix the wiring, I can't open the pub at all."

"No. Well, I do have a solution to that too, if you promise not to bite my head off. It's only a suggestion, remember?"

"Okay, go on."

"Well, my mum left me some money."

"Peter, I can't take that. It's for your future."

"I know that. This _is_ my future. Assumpta, I don't want to rush you, or put pressure on you, but last night we talked about getting married, and living here together, having a family." He still sat on the floor, but turned to face her. "Look, the way I see it is this. In the most part, you can run this place fine on your own. You don't need me sticking my nose in, and I don't think I'd be very good at it. So I'm going to think about what else I can do, maybe re-train, or maybe find a job with the qualifications I already have. That way, I can ease the financial strain on you a bit. And hopefully I'll still be able to help you out when you need me. But the pub, the business, is yours."

She nodded, relieved that he understood how much it meant to her.

"The rest of this place though, I want it to be _ours_, Assumpta; our home, together. So, I'm not offering you the money for the business, but for our home. It's all one wiring system, isn't it?"

She nodded again.

"Well then. I don't see what it has to do with the business really, other than the fact that the fuse box is in the cellar. Get someone in to re-wire the whole building. Just promise me you'll think about it, and let me know?"

"How about this? I'll call the electrician tomorrow, get him to come in on Monday, and we'll talk to him together, and we'll make a decision together."

"That sounds wonderful. Now, do you want me to stay?"

"I think I'll be able to manage on my own."

He sat down on the middle of the couch and scanned her face. She still looked pale and shaken. "Assumpta, I'm sure you can manage. That's not what I asked. Do you _want_ me to stay?"

She closed her eyes, nodded slowly, and pulled him to her. She lifted the blanket over both of them and wrapped her arms around his back.

"Thank you. I needed you tonight, and you've been wonderful."

"I need you too. Just as much. I need to know that I can help you." He gently brushed the hair from around her face, and ran his thumbs over her cheeks where the last of her tears still glistened.

"You do. In more ways than you'll ever realise." She placed a gentle kiss on his lips, and lay back to be lulled to sleep by the soft sound of his breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: The more I write of this, the harder it gets; there are less than 3 minutes of footage of Peter and Assumpta together and happy (a complete travesty) which makes it really difficult to know how they would interact with each other. So I think this will be the end for my little story, unless something else just jumps into my head and I can't get it out.

* * *

The phone rang twice before a voice answered at the other end.

"Good morning, Garda house; Niamh Egan speaking."

"Niamh. He's gone."

"Assumpta?"

"He's gone." The sheer panic was obvious in Assumpta's voice.

"What? Peter's left you?"

"Yes. No, I mean, he's gone. To the church. What if he doesn't come back?"

"Assumpta, it's Sunday morning. As far as everyone else is concerned, Peter is the local curate. He needs to tell them that he's leaving."

"I want to go up there."

"Don't be ridiculous! For one thing, you're supposed to be resting your ankle. For another, you haven't been to mass in ten years. What do you think will happen if you turn up on the day that Peter announces he's leaving? People will talk. I thought you wanted to keep this thing between you and him quiet?"

"I do, but… argh, this is driving me crazy! I thought it would be easier now, but it's not. What if he changes his mind? What if he gets there and realises that he can't do it, that he can't leave?"

"Assumpta, you know you're going to have to learn to trust him, don't you?"

Assumpta sighed heavily. "I know, I know. Look, you're going aren't you? Will you come down here after and tell me what he said, and how he looked? I'm going out of my mind."

"Alright. Now, try and do something to take your mind off it all. Accounts, or ordering stock, or something that doesn't involve you walking on your ankle. It'll all be fine. Now I have to go. I'll see you soon."

The connection was cut off.

* * *

Peter sat alone, off to one side of the church, at the front. There had been many whispered comments as people arrived, the puzzled tone clear even from where he was sitting. A few people had hovered nearby for a while, obviously waiting to talk to him, but he kept his head bowed and his eyes closed, clearly deep in prayer. _Please God, now that I know this is right, please help them to accept it, and when the time is right, help them to accept Assumpta and me. _The words flowed through his mind in an endless cycle.

Everyone took their places. He tried to listen to what Father Mac was saying, but still the same words repeated themselves over and over; _Help them to accept it, please._

Eventually, with a lump in his throat, and his heart racing, he stood up to face the congregation.

"Three years ago, I stood at the front of a church in Manchester, preparing myself to make a similar speech to the one I am about to make to you today. I need to tell you all that, as of today, I will no longer be your priest here in Ballykissangel. This time, however, I won't be leaving the area, but leaving the church." He paused for several seconds to let a few murmurs pass.

"This is a decision which has taken me a long time to make, and I feel that I owe you, my congregation, my friends," he glanced quickly at a few chosen faces, "a proper explanation as to why I have reached this decision."

Peter resolutely kept his seat at the front of the church, resisting the urge to turn around. He was determined to give those who wanted it the opportunity to talk about him without him overhearing. He felt a strong hand clap him on the shoulder from behind.

"That was quite a speech you just made. Not sure how it'll go down with Father Mac."

"Thanks Brendan."

"So, I guess you've got some free time on your hands now? Care to join me for a spot of fishing sometime?"

Peter sighed in relief. At least one person was not being openly hostile towards him, and the opinion of that particular person was one that he respected highly.

"Yeah, that'd be great." A wide smile split his face.

"Listen, do you need a place to stay?"

"No, I'm fine. Assumpta's letting me stay at Fitzgerald's in return for helping her out behind the bar."

"Oh, so she knows then?" Brendan raised his eyebrows slightly.

"What? Oh, er, yeah," he hastily searched his mind for a good explanation. "Well, with her ankle and everything, she was really worrying about how she was going to run the pub, so I mentioned that I might be in need of a roof over my head, and that I was willing to work for it. Thanks for the offer though."

"No worries. It'll still be there, if you get fed up of living and working with her." He winked conspiratorially, and sauntered off, as Niamh approached with a screaming Kieran.

"Listen, Peter, I just wanted to come over and show my support, but this young man seems to have other ideas." She leaned in and whispered, "Between you and me, I don't think he was too keen on having to listen to Father Mac up there instead of you. But I'd better get off and try to settle him down." She hurried away out of the church and down the street, but turned to Fitzgerald's, instead of her own home.

Peter walked slowly up the central aisle, exchanging words of greeting with some people, a smile and a nod with others, but also meeting several glances which were quickly turned away.

As he stepped outside, Michael Ryan approached him.

"Peter, could I have a quick word?"

* * *

As Niamh stepped into Fitzgerald's, she heard banging and clattering coming from down in the cellar. She stormed over to the open hatch.

"Assumpta Fitzgerald, what do you think …!"

"I'm over here, Niamh," Assumpta's voice interrupted calmly from the sofa next to the fire.

"Oh. So what's going on down there then?"

"Electrician. I took your advice and did something useful. First name in the phone book. Said he could come today," she rattled off quickly, eager to get to the main point. "So, what happened? What did he say, and how did he look?"

Niamh handed Kieran to Assumpta, and sat down next to her.

"He looked ok. Worried, but you know, that's to be expected. He said he'd decided after two years of doubts that he should leave the priesthood, but that he would never leave his faith behind. He talked about how his desire to help people and do what was best for them didn't always seem to match up with the teachings of the church, and about how he'd grown to love Ballyk, and the community. He talked a bit about his mum. Did you know that she'd made him watch The Sound of Music when she was dying?"

Assumpta shook her head.

"She said it had very profound messages in it. That he had to look for his life, and remember that there were many different ways to serve God."

Assumpta was looking a little more relaxed now. "How did they react?"

"Well, shocked, mostly. I think it'll be ok, given a bit of time. Listen, I'd better get this one home and give him some dinner. Call me if you need anything, ok?"

"Yeah, I will. Thanks Niamh."

* * *

"Peter, I take it you might be free this afternoon?"

"Yes, I am. I need to move my stuff out of the curate's house and into Fitzgerald's, but apart from that…"

"Well, that's even better. I'll give you a hand, and then I need your help. I have to go and look at Assumpta's leg. If it seems to be broken, someone will need to take her to the hospital. And if it's not, someone will need to make sure she doesn't start overdoing it."

"And you think I'm the man for the job?"

"I'm sure you'll rise to the challenge." They shared a knowing look, and set off towards the curate's house.

* * *

Peter hastily stuffed his few belongings into his rucksack and a couple of cardboard boxes, before handing one of the boxes to Doc Ryan. They walked down the street in companionable silence.

The front door of Fitzgerald's swung open as they approached, the electrician returning to his van for different equipment. They nodded greetings to each other as they passed, and Doc Ryan called out as they entered.

"Morning Assumpta!"

"Over here Michael." She waved from the sofa.

"Peter, where do you want these?" He nodded at the box in his arms.

"Ah, just over here for now. I'll move them later."

"And how's my patient this morning?"

"Frustrated. Look, the swelling's gone down, and it doesn't hurt so much anymore. Please tell me that I can start doing things again?" she begged.

"Let me have a look." He knelt down to examine her ankle, gently flexing her foot and pressing softly against the bruised skin. Assumpta winced slightly.

"It looks ok. I still want you to keep off it as much as you can. Build it up gradually. Keep taking the painkillers when you need them, and rest it whenever possible. Peter tells me he's staying here for the time being?"

She nodded in agreement.

"Right, so he's very kindly agreed to make sure you don't overdo it. And you ring me if it swells up again, or if the pain gets worse."

"Okay. Thanks Michael."

He was barely out of the door before Assumpta had turned to Peter, and reached for his hand.

"So how was it?"

Peter sighed slightly. "It was ok. I mean, it was strange, and it was a bit sad. Some people looked disappointed, you know? Most people seemed fairly understanding, but it's hard to tell. Brendan invited me fishing with him, though, and a few others came and talked to me. They obviously wanted me to know they supported me. All in all, I'd say it went better than I could have hoped for."

He looked around. "Anyway, what's going on here?"

"Electrician."

"On a Sunday?"

"I know. First number in the book. But when I said Fitzgerald's, he insisted he come today. Turns out he's an old friend of my dad." She looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

She shrugged, and absentmindedly traced patterns on the back of his hand with her fingers. "I'm not sure. I mean, for business, it's good. He's doing it at mates' rates, and on a Sunday…."

"But personally?"

She sighed. "It's odd. It brings back a lot of memories, you know?" She sat sideways on the sofa, and pulled her knees up to her chin. "My dad had two sides to him. He was one person out in front of the bar; landlord, master of his kingdom, general good-guy, friend to the weary traveller. But he was different behind closed doors. The way he treated my mum…"

"Did he hurt her?" he asked softly.

"No. Not physically. She was as bad. She wouldn't stand up to him. She said that she'd vowed before God to obey him, so that's what she had to do. She could have been so much more than she was, you know? But instead, she just sat back here, cooking food, taking his orders, never allowed to think for herself. Every so often, she'd say something that upset him, and he'd make her go to confession, and the priest would tell her it was her duty to do what my dad told her to."

"Which is why you hate priests and the church?" Understanding was finally beginning to dawn.

"Yeah. Until I realised that not everything about the church is as bad as that." She smiled up at him. "I mean, the Father Mac's of this world are still as bad as ever, but I guess there are a few decent priests out there."

"One fewer, as of this morning."

"God, yeah."

"Don't worry about it, Assumpta. Not your fault, not your decision, and nothing you could do or say would make me change my mind."

"You'd better not!" She beamed up at him.

"So's this your boyfriend then?" The electrician was sticking his head over the bar, after climbing up from the cellar.

"Lodger" Peter corrected, just as Assumpta told him "Barman".

"I guess I'm both really, for the moment. Peter Clifford." He walked over and shook the man's hand.

Assumpta got tentatively to her feet, and slowly hobbled over to the bar. "So how's it looking?"

"Well, it's sorted for now, but it won't last forever. It'll need replacing and soon. But I haven't got time for another couple of months. You'll be without power for a week or so if I'm going to rewire the whole place. So have a look at your calendar and see when you want me to come. I'll come and give it a quick check-up every few weeks until then, just to be on the safe side though."

"Thanks. There'll be a pint waiting for you when you do. I'll be in touch."

He gathered up his tools and went on his way.

"He seems a nice enough chap."

"Yeah, who'd have thought it – an Irish workman who shows up on time and does Sundays!" She smiled sarcastically, before her expression clouded over. "A whole week without opening up, though?"

"I know. The entire fabric of the community will disintegrate before our very eyes!"

"Oy! Stop joking! I'm serious. That's a lot of money. And what are we going to do? Just sit around and watch the paint dry?"

"Well, I might have another job by then, anyway. Or, you could be really daring and actually have some time off. When was the last time you had a holiday?"

"You mean, apart from when I went to London to marry Leo?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"Well, apart from that, probably never, since I came back to run this place."

"Well then. Have a look at some brochures and find somewhere you want to go. Have a break. I can look after this place and any workmen coming in or out."

Assumpta looked at him thoughtfully. "I'd rather Niamh did that."

"What, don't you trust me? It's not like I'd actually be running the bar."

She glanced down at her knees and fussed with a thread hanging from the bottom of her jumper. "No, it's not that. It's just that I'd rather she looked after the place, then you could come with me." She glanced up at him hopefully. "When was the last time you had a holiday?"

"Apart from going to visit my mum, about as long as you."

"So is that a yes?"

He simply leaned over and kissed her. It was a fairly clear answer.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent with Assumpta directing Peter, as he took his things to his room, put the cellar back in order and cleared up what was left of the previous night's entertainments. Assumpta sat at the kitchen table preparing food for their lunch, and vegetables to make a large pot of soup for the pub. Fortunately, the lack of electric hadn't spoiled any of the food in the fridge or the freezer. By mid-afternoon, the bar was back in working order.

"How do you feel about opening up tonight?" Assumpta asked.

"That's fine, if it's what you want."

"Well, it'd be stupid to miss a night's business, especially if I've got to close for a whole week soon. Pass me the phone."

Peter got up and stretched the phone cord from the wall in the kitchen. Assumpta typed in a phone number and waited.

"Brendan? Just thought I'd let you know the electrics are fixed and I'm opening up tonight…. Yeah, well, I knew you'd be upset if you missed out…. Will you let Siobhan and Padraig know too? And anyone else you see on your travels. Ok, see you later."

"You have his phone number committed to memory?" Peter was amused.

"Yeah, well, before you arrived here, he was the one I always went to if I had a problem."

"Ah. I see. So what else wants doing?"

"You could make a start on some sandwiches, and keep stirring the soup."

* * *

There were far more people than usual in Fitzgerald's that evening, especially considering everyone had thought the pub would be closed. But the attraction of seeing the ex-priest pulling pints seemed to hold some sort of curiosity-value, even though he'd been doing the same thing the night before.

"Ah, but they didn't know you were an ex-priest then, Peter, they just thought you were helping out," Brendan explained.

"I've lost count of the number of times I've told someone that it isn't permanent and I'm just helping Assumpta until she's back on her feet."

"So it's completely selfless then, is it?"

Panic began to show on Peter's face.

"I mean," continued Brendan, "it's got nothing to do with her having spare rooms, and you needing a roof over your head?"

"Ah, well, you know." He shrugged, relieved that that was all Brendan meant. "It's a win-win situation."

Peter and Assumpta hardly had time to speak to each other, apart from questions and instructions about customers' orders. But Assumpta was sure that Peter was finding every possible excuse to slide past her, and put a hand gently on her arm or her shoulder as he squeezed by. A couple of times, he slowly ran a finger across her lower back as he moved behind her, where she was seated behind the bar. She resisted flicking him a glance, and tried to concentrate on the conversation she was having with Siobhan, for fear of giving something away.

* * *

As the bar started to empty, Assumpta sent Peter to clear the tables and start on the washing up, while she said goodnight to the last few remaining customers. As Peter headed into the kitchen with an armful of glasses, Brendan and Siobhan stood up to leave.

"Night then, Assumpta."

"Night, Siobhan."

"Hold on for me a minute, Siobhan," called Brendan as she turned to head out of the door, "and I'll walk you home. I just have to pay a call."

"Seriously, you'd think he was the one with a baby squashing his bladder. I'll wait outside for him."

As she left the pub, Peter reappeared and crept quietly up behind Assumpta, who had climbed down from her bar stool and was trying her weight on her bad leg. He stood closely behind her, and slid his arms around her waist, his hands meeting over her stomach.

"Peter!" she gasped.

He bent his head down and nuzzled her hair out of the way, so he could brush his lips against her neck.

"Shh. I've been waiting all night to put my arms around you."

One of his hands lifted the hem of her jumper ever so slightly, so that he could slide his thumb up between the material and her skin. She gasped again at the touch. His other hand was covering up all evidence of what his thumb was doing, making slow circles around her belly button, causing her to squirm slightly as he tickled her. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Her instinct to back away from his tickling just pushed her more tightly into his arms.

"Peter, you've got to stop," she forced herself to say, even though it was the last thing she wanted him to do.

"Why?" he asked, kissing her neck softly.

"Well, thank goodness for that!" Brendan shouted as he emerged from the toilets. "It's about time you two finally got your acts together."

"That's why," Assumpta hissed, as Peter blushed furiously, frozen in shock in the same compromising position.

Siobhan's head reappeared around the door.

"Ah, great. So much for keeping it quiet. Sorry Siobhan. Look, come back in."

Peter still seemed to be frozen, his arms around Assumpta's waist.

"Look, we, er, well, we didn't want everyone to find out about this yet, you know?" Assumpta glanced quickly from Brendan to Siobhan, trying to gauge their reactions to the situation.

"Peter's a free man now, why should it be anyone else's business what you do?" Siobhan pointed out.

"It shouldn't. But that doesn't mean it couldn't still make things awkward. We were hoping to let things die down a little bit, let people get over Peter leaving the church, before anyone found out about us. Could you try and keep it to yourselves for as long as possible?"

"Of course." Brendan and Siobhan were both beaming. "We'll just, er, let you get on. Come on, Brendan." She took him by the arm and marched him out of the pub.

"They'll be talking about us all the way home, won't they?" Peter mumbled.

"Yeah, I expect they will."

"Sorry."

"Ah, you weren't to know. But for future reference, it may be an idea to wait until you're certain everyone has gone before you start doing something like that." She turned around and raised her eyebrows at him.

Peter looked very relieved that he wasn't in trouble. "So, like now, you mean?"

"Ah, no, don't start that again."

"Why not?" He pouted like a little child being told he couldn't have his own way.

"Because," she said, sliding her arms up around his neck, "I'm having enough trouble keeping my mind on the job as it is. Now get back to the kitchen!" She kissed him quickly on the lips, then turned and hobbled to the end of the bar to start wiping down tables.

* * *

The work that usually took so long for one weary person was quickly finished by two who were enjoying the company of each other. They talked continually about the village and the people, and were still in animated conversation as they switched off the downstairs lights and Peter helped Assumpta up the stairs. With unspoken agreement, Assumpta used the bathroom first while Peter got changed, read a passage from the Bible, and prayed. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, she was sitting in her bed, the bedside lamp on, watching the open doorway.

Peter poked his head in through the door as he passed. "You ok? Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine. Come and sit with me a minute though."

He moved slightly awkwardly to sit beside her.

"Are you ok? You look tense," she told him.

"I'm fine - I'm just a bit achy. It's lifting all those barrels. I'm not used to it yet."

"Ah, you'll toughen up soon enough. C'm'ere."

She reached for his shoulders and began to gently massage his upper-back though his t-shirt. He felt his neck muscles begin to relax, as Assumpta's fingers left a tingling sensation wherever they passed. She moved her hands lower, down over his shoulder blades, and to his lower-back. She slid her hands under his t-shirt and ran her fingers up either side of his spine, dragging his t-shirt up as she went.

"Is this ok?" she whispered in his ear as she leaned forward.

"Er…yeah," he choked out, as her fingers dug into his tense flesh.

"Erm, it'd be easier if…" She pulled his t-shirt up again, and this time he took the hint, and lifted the t-shirt over his head. As she massaged, she studied every inch of his skin, trying to commit to memory his neck, shoulders, arms and back. They sat like this in silence for several minutes, before Peter spoke.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"You must be thinking about something. You're never quiet for that long."

She let out a sigh. "You'll think I'm strange."

He turned to face her and gave her a wicked grin. "I already do. What is it?"

"I don't know. It's just… I still can't quite believe that I'm allowed to do this, you know?" He nodded. "And I don't know when I'll get the chance to … well, see you like this again. I mean, I know you have strong views on certain things, and that's fine, and I respect that, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I've wanted to do this for such a long time. Just be with you, and touch you, and … you know."

"I do know. But, Assumpta, these 'strong views' I'm supposed to have – I'm not sure I do have them. At least, not as strong as everyone seems to think. Every situation's different, isn't it? I mean, I do think that it's probably a bad idea to jump into bed with someone the first time you meet them, and I think that if you're going to have children, then it's much better for them to grow up in a stable family. But if two people love each other, and they trust each other, and they're both comfortable with it, and careful…" He shrugged.

"Wow." Assumpta was stunned. "That wasn't the response I was expecting."

"I know. There's a lot you probably don't know about me yet, and there's a lot I don't know about you, which is why I'm not ready to take that step yet. But there're so many other steps in between, and every one of them is more than I ever imagined I'd have with you, and I want to savour every single one. I know that probably means this will feel incredibly slow to you, but…"

"Peter," she cut in, "you really have no idea how I feel right now, do you?"

"Probably not. That's what I mean. Why don't you tell me?" He watched her face carefully.

"I haven't felt like this since I was fourteen, and I had my very first kiss. I had butterflies in my stomach, and my knees were trembling, and I just wanted to run and tell everyone that he'd kissed me. Two weeks later, he was kissing some girl from Cilldargan, but that's not the point."

She smiled up at him and raised her hand to gently stroke his cheek.

"Peter, I feel like a teenager again. Every time you hold my hand, or kiss me, or tell me you love me, I feel like I'm dreaming. Probably because, for the last God-knows-how-long, every time I've felt like that, I have been dreaming. But you can stop worrying; I'm happy for us to take our time over this. It doesn't mean I'm going to enjoy watching you walk back off to your room, and it doesn't mean I'll sleep easily, knowing you're just the other side of that wall, but I can live with that for now."

Peter screwed his eyes shut, took hold of her hands, and took a deep breath. "Well I can't."

"What?"

"I can't go to sleep on the other side of that wall, knowing that you're lying here. You said you don't want me to go?"

She nodded.

"And I don't want to go, so why should I? I want to spend the night here, by your side. I want to be able to hear you breathing, and smell your hair, and hold you close to me." He thought about the previous two nights. "And I don't want it to be because we got carried away by our emotions, or because you were ill and scared and I wanted to comfort you, but because it's what we both want."

"Are you sure?" she whispered, staring deep into his eyes.

He pulled back the corner of the covers and slid in between the cool sheets. He lay down on his side and reached out a hand to stroke her leg. She slid down next to him, and they lay face to face, her hand tracing the bare skin of his waist, his hand gently stroking her thigh, staring into each others' eyes.

Assumpta rolled onto her back and reached out to switch off the bedside lamp, then rolled back into Peter's arms.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Wonderful. You?"

"Well, my heart's racing, and I have butterflies in my stomach."

"Good. So do I."


	4. Chapter 4

The usual Sunday-lunchtime crowd were gathered around the bar at Fitzgerald's, eating sandwiches rather than hot meals, as the temperature had been gradually climbing for the past couple of weeks. It looked as though summer might finally be arriving in Ballykissangel, at least for the time-being. You could never trust the good weather to last for long in Ireland, but for now Assumpta was thankful for the extra customers calling in to quench their thirst.

"Afternoon, Assumpta. A ham sandwich and a pint of the black stuff, whenever you're ready," Brendan called out as he took his usual seat by the bar.

All he received in reply was some muttering and a scowl as she turned her back and marched into the kitchen. Brendan turned to Siobhan.

"So I see the old Assumpta's back? What do we think has brought about this return to the Assumpta we all know and love?"

Siobhan nodded her head at the gloomiest corner of the bar. "Yer man over there, I should say."

Peter sat alone at a table, staring into the bottom of an empty glass. "Ah." Brendan nodded slowly in understanding, as Assumpta returned and slammed his sandwich down in front of him.

"So what's wrong with Peter then?" he asked tentatively, as she pulled his pint.

"How should I know?" she huffed. "I only rent him a room and employ him. It's not like he'd talk to me." She banged the pint down on the bar, slopping a good portion of it out of the glass.

"Ah, sorry." She reached for a cloth to mop up the mess, and Brendan watched her deflate as she stopped fighting. "I don't know what's going on. He won't speak to me. He was fine yesterday and he went off to mass before I woke up this morning. He came back in that state and hasn't said a word to me - pulled his own pint and put the money in the till. I don't know what happened, if I said something, or…" she trailed off, hopelessly.

"D'you want me to talk to him?"

"You can try." She sighed and moved on to serve someone else.

* * *

Brendan surveyed the situation; hands wrapped around an empty glass, shoulders slumped, head bowed, jaw clenched tightly shut. He approached the table.

"Just… don't bother Brendan, ok?" Peter didn't even look up.

"Well, I was going to ask if you're ok, but…" It was obvious to both of them that he wasn't.

"I don't want to talk to you about it."

"How about you talk to Assumpta then? She thinks she's upset you; she's no idea what to do."

"It's nothing to do with her." His voice was expressionless.

"Then would you just tell her that?"

Peter pushed his chair from behind him and stood. "Look, I can't. Not today. I just… can't." He turned and headed for the door.

* * *

"No luck?" Assumpta looked so hopeful; it was heartbreaking for Brendan to have to disappoint her.

He shook his head. "Sorry. He said it was nothing that you'd done, but he couldn't talk about it. Then he did a runner."

"Ah, great," she muttered.

"What was that?" Niamh had appeared, summoned by Assumpta to help out when it was clear Peter was staying on the other side of the bar.

"Peter," Siobhan said simply.

"Oh, I just saw him heading over the bridge. He looked in a hurry. What's going on?"

"He's upset. No-one knows why. He won't talk to anyone," Siobhan explained.

"And I think I just made things worse," Brendan added.

"Ah, well, of course he's upset. He's bound to be, today."

Raised eyebrows and puzzled glances were shared between Assumpta, Siobhan and Brendan.

"Erm, Niamh? It's been a very stressful morning, and I'd be very grateful if you could stop skirting round the subject and just tell me what the hell is going on!" Assumpta struggled to keep the impatience from her voice.

"Well, it's his mum's birthday, isn't it?"

"How do _you_ know that?"

"He must have mentioned it once, a while ago. I remember thinking that it was the day after Ambrose's mother."

Assumpta was already gone, calling from the doorway "Look after the bar for me Niamh! I don't know when I'll be back."

She pulled the keys of her little blue van from her pocket and got in, then turned around and headed over the little bridge across the river. It didn't take long to catch up to Peter, as fast as he'd been walking. She pulled up just ahead of him, and leaned over to open the door.

"Get in."

"Assumpta, I don't want to talk about it." The exasperation of having said the same thing to so many people today was starting to show, and his patience was wearing thin.

"I'm not asking you to talk about it. I'm asking you to get in." Their eyes met in a stubborn glare, but Peter, knowing when he was beaten, finally backed down.

"Fine," he said as he swung his legs into the passenger seat.

They drove in awkward silence for several miles, before Peter spoke.

"Where are we going?"

"Into Cilldargan first. You need a distraction."

"I need some peace and quiet," he muttered sullenly.

"Well, tough, 'cos you're not getting any."

Peter slumped in the seat, defeated. Even in his worst mood, he knew his temper and stubbornness were no match for Assumpta's. As they drove, his anger gradually began to be pushed aside by curiosity.

"Where are we going?" he asked again.

"Look, you're just going to have to trust me."

She braked suddenly on the winding country lane and pulled in to a small gateway, which led to a car park.

"A garden centre? Assumpta, you don't even have a garden!"

They got out of the van, and Assumpta came around to stand in front of him. "Do you trust me?"

"This is ridiculous!" he spluttered.

She took hold of his arm and made him look at her. "Do you trust me?" she asked pointedly, holding his gaze.

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Yes," he finally murmured.

"Good." She squeezed his hand quickly and let it drop, then led him inside.

Assumpta led them to the tools, and picked up a small watering can and a trowel, then wandered towards the plants.

"Right." She put the tools down on the floor, and turned to face Peter, her arms folded, with a look of grim determination on her face. "What would she have liked?"

"What?" Peter looked genuinely bemused, and Assumpta couldn't help but smile, as she spoke more softly.

"Your mum, Peter. What would she have liked?"

The tears welled up in Peter's eyes, and as he spoke, it was clear he had a lump in his throat. "Assumpta… I can't do this."

"Yes you can. What did she grow in her garden?"

"Not much." He shrugged. "She wasn't really a keen gardener." He sighed as he realised Assumpta wouldn't let him get away with that as an answer. "There was honeysuckle on the fence, and a few roses, bulbs in the spring, poppies, and aquilegias. She said you never knew what you'd get with them, 'cos they pollinated each other and totally new ones sprang up the next year."

"Okay. Come on then." She took his hand again - a risky move out in public, but there weren't many people around, and Assumpta knew that Peter needed it - as he followed her to the section with bulbs and seeds. They chose packets of poppy seeds, and spring bulbs, and some other things they simply liked the look of.

As they loaded their purchases into the van, Assumpta glanced across at Peter. He seemed calmer now – not as tense. But she still felt the waves of sadness bordering on despair flowing from him. They drove back toward Ballykissangel in silence, but a different sort of silence from earlier. It wasn't until Assumpta pulled up at the side of the road a couple of miles from home that either of them spoke.

"Where are we going now?" Peter asked, as she pulled the key from the ignition and opened her door.

"You'll see in about twenty minutes," she replied, grinning at his expression of absolute confusion and resignation.

They walked through the woodland on a narrow path that ran parallel to the river for a quarter of an hour, and then Assumpta led him off through the undergrowth. She slowly drew to a halt, and pointed ahead of them. "It's just through there," she whispered, and let Peter lead the way into a wide clearing.

"What is this place?" They both kept their voices low, as most people feel the need to do in a spiritual place.

"I found it when I was a teenager," she explained as he wandered around, reaching out to touch leaves and smell flowers. "I used to walk for miles in these woods, when I needed to get away from home. The first time I came here, there was just this one rose, starting to climb up this tree." She led him towards it. "And whoever had planted it had obviously carved this into the trunk." As she pulled aside the leaves that had overgrown the carving, the word MUM was revealed in the bark. "I remembered it. When my mum died, and I came back from uni, I spent weeks trying to find this place. When I did, there were snowdrops all around, plants climbing up and around all the trees, and other little shoots that weren't in flower yet. I came back a couple of weeks later, and there were daffodils out. I found other things carved into other trees. I planted some tulips for my mum. It's funny – I've never heard anyone talk about this place. Never, in all the years I've lived here. They must know about it though. So many people have been here."

Peter moved slowly among the trees, shrubs and flowers in this wild garden in the woods. He read names carved into trees, all dedications to the memory of someone special. Assumpta sat down on the soft ground and waited for Peter. He eventually came and stood before her, and held out his hand. She allowed herself to be pulled up.

"Thank you." It was all he could manage to say, but that, and the look in his eyes were all that was needed.

"Come on. Let's plant your mum's flowers."

As Peter dug holes and carefully tucked bulbs into the ground, Assumpta scattered seeds onto bare patches of earth. She picked up the watering can.

"Peter, I'm just going to walk down to the river, ok?" She left him deep in thought.

As he firmed the soil in around the last bulb, he noticed the small blue flowers poking through the grass. Forget-me-nots.

"I wish you were still here, mum," he said out loud. "I miss you every day, but especially today. I wish I'd been brave enough to tell you about Assumpta. I wish I'd been brave enough to tell her sooner too. She makes me so happy, mum. I know you'd have loved her, and she'd have loved you, but then, everyone always did love you. Everyone here loves her too. I don't know what I did to deserve her. I really don't. I feel like I'll never be worthy of her, but the funny thing is, I think she feels the same thing about me. These flowers are for you. I hope you like them. I know they're not flowering now, but this time next year, some of them will be." He heard Assumpta's footsteps approaching from behind him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you today," he said, as she stood next to him. He still couldn't quite bring himself to meet her gaze. "I had this stupid idea in my head that I should be strong, and keep it all to myself, and not worry you."

She took his hand and made him look at her. "You worried me far more by clamming up and getting angry."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I wish I'd met your mum. I'd like to know about her, when you're ready to talk about it. And I wish she could have seen you since you stopped all that God-bothering business."

Peter let out a genuine heart-felt laugh for the first time that day. "Oh, really! And why is that?"

"Because you're getting better-looking by the day, now you're starting to loosen up a bit." She stretched out a hand and gently touched his cheek. "Because you smile more. And talk more. Because she could have come to our wedding."

Peter took both Assumpta's hands, and looked deep into her eyes. "When we get married, we'll come here, the day before the wedding, and pick the most beautiful flowers in Ireland. And you can have them in your bouquet, and I'll have one in my button-hole, and then they'll both be with us. Your mum and my mum."

She nodded her agreement, and they stood together for a few moments more, his arm around her shoulder, her arm around his waist, in the sunlit clearing, with the gentle sunlight drying the tears on both their faces.


End file.
